A Choice
by VivaFariy
Summary: Clara has a tough choice to make. A choice between two wonderful boys. Who will she choose? I'm just another one of those people who wanted Clara to be with Christian, and this is another one of those twisted endings.
1. Chapter 1: Christian

**Author's Note:**

** I'm just another one of those people who wanted Clara to be with Christian. I wrote another one of those changed endings. **

**After reading the book, the feeling of dislike towards the ending was so strong that I had to write a new one. I did not yet know that such a large group of fan-fiction had already been written. Still, I post this because I wrote it, even if it is unoriginal. **

**Like others, this has scenes from the actual book in it, with twists. I do not take credit for any words here that Cynthia Hand wrote, nor the characters.**

He gets up. He smiles like everything's peachy, but I can feel that this is killing him. Leaving me goes against all his instincts, all that his heart is telling him.

"I meant it, what I said in hell," he says. "You're my glory sword, you know that? My truth."

"Christian-"

He holds up his hand like, _Let me finish. _"I saw the look on your face when he died. I saw what was in your heart, and it's real. All this time I kept telling myself that it was a crush, and you'd get over it, and then you'd be free to be with me. But it's not a passing phase, or this stubborn refusal to accept what you think is your destiny. You're not going to get over it. I know that. You belong with him now." He swallows. "I was wrong to kiss you that day in the cemetery."

There are tears in my eyes. I wipe at them.

"No," I say. "I can't let you leave."

He's getting frustrated. It's too much for him. "You can't have it both ways, Clara. You can't have us both."

"I know, but-"

"You're a strong girl, Clara. So strong. But you have to learn to let go."

I sigh. I know that. I have to let go of Tucker, for good.

"No," he says, reading my mind. "You have to let go of me. _He's_ your glory. I know that now."

"He's not my glory!" I shout out, surprising myself as well as him.

Christian shakes his head. "Don't tell me that. I saw the way you looked at him."

"No." I'm tearing again, but this time I don't wipe it away. "No. He's my home, but _you're_ my glory."

"What does that even mean?" Christian asks me, and I have to take a moment to think and choose the right words.

"It means I will never forget my time with him, and I will always cherish the memories. I will always love him." I don't even need my empathy to feel his pain. It's clear as day on his face. "But you, you Christian, are my glory. My strength." He's looking at me strangely. "It's because of you that I got us out of hell." I'm not paying attention to anything anymore. I'm just speaking. "I need you to keep going. You make me feel whole. You give me strength." I laugh a bit, at the irony, and at how cheesy this must sound. "It's like Jeffery said, I guess you are my soul mate."

I look up at him, expecting happiness.

He looks down. I know what he's not saying. He feels empty. He thinks it's the angel-purpose stuff, not love. He still thinks it's second choice.

"I have to go."

"Christian, wait!" I run to him, tears in my eyes. I can't lose him. I can't. I didn't feel this way for Tucker. I didn't feel as...empty...and struck as I do now.

I've made my choice.

I look into his eyes; his beautiful, gold-flecked eyes. There's hope in his expression, as he holds me, keeping me from crashing down.

"You," I say, and he smiles.

_I love you_, he thinks.

Smiling, I pull up his shirt. For a second he looks totally confused, but then I put my hand on the long gash in his side, which still hasn't healed. I clear my head as much as I can, then call the glory to my fingers. And it comes.

He gives a pained gasp as his flesh knits itself back together. When I take my hand away, the cut is completely healed, but there's a long silver scar stretching down his ribs.

"Sorry about the scar," I say.

"Wow," he laughs. "That was just like _E.T._ Thank you."

As much as I don't want to end this, I have to. "Um...," I say, "I guess I've go to, well, go tell Tucker." He nods his understanding and I leave the room.


	2. Chapter 2: Tucker

I take a bath. I scrub every part of my body, shave my legs, work the dirt from under my fingernails, until finally, at long last, I feel clean. Then I sit at my desk in my bathrobe and tackle the arduous task of combing the tangles out of my hair. I smooth moisturizer over my face, put some lip balm on. In my closet I stand for a long while staring at a yellow sundress my mom once gave me for my birthday, which I wore the night Tucker first took me to Bubba's, which was, in a backward way, our first date. I push it to the side and put on a pair of jeans and a T-shirt. After strapping on some white sandals, I go downstairs.

My black hoodie, the one I was wearing all through this whole ordeal, is laid carefully across the back of the couch. I pick it up. It smells like lake water and blood. I walk to the laundry room to toss it in there, but first I check the pockets.

Inside the left pocket is a silver charm bracelet. I hold it in my palm, examining each charm. A horse, for when they took off across the countryside. A fish, for when they met. A heart. And now a new charm.

A tiny silver sparrow.

I put it on. It tinkles against the bones of my wrist as I walk down the hallway to Mom's old room. My heart starts to beat fast, my breath quickens, but I don't hesitate. I need to see him. I open the door.

The bed's empty, the sheets pulled up in a messy way, like someone tried to straighten the covers in a hurry. No one's here. I frown.

Maybe I took too long to come find him. Maybe he left.

I smell something burning.

I find Tucker in the kitchen, attempting and spectacularly failing to make scrambled eggs. He pushes at the blackened mess with a spatula, tries to flip it, burns himself, fights back a cuss word, and starts shaking his hand like he can get the pain off it. I laugh, and he whirls around, startled. His blue eyes widen.

"Clara!" he says.

My heart sinks looking at him. How will I tell him? I walk up to him and take the spatula out of his hand.

"I thought you' be hungry," he says.

"Not for that." I smile and grab a dish towel, pick up the frying pan, march it over to the trash can, and scrape the eggs into it. Then I go to the sink and rinse it out. "Let me," I say.

He nods and pulls himself up onto one of the kitchen stools. He's not wearing a shirt, just a pair of my brother's old pajama pants. Even so he looks like Sunday morning, I think the expression goes. I try not to flat-out stare as I go to the refrigerator and get out a carton of eggs, crack them into a bowl, add milk, and whisk it all together.

"How are you?" he asks. "Jeffery told me you were sleeping."

"You saw Jeffery?"

"Yeah, he was here for a while. He seemed kind of distracted. He tried to give me an envelope filled with money."

"Uh, sorry?" I offer.

"You California yuppies think you can buy anything," Tucker jokes.

And he is joking. He's getting pretty fond of California yuppies.

"I'm good," I say with a cough, to answer his original question. "How are you?"

"Never felt better," he says.

I stop whisking and look over at him. He doesn't seem changed, I think. He doesn't look like any prophet I've ever heard of.

"What?" he asks. "Do I have egg on my face?"

"I'm not really hungry," I say, pushing aside the eggs. "I need to talk to you."

He swallows. "Please don't let this be the part where you tell me what's best for me again."

I gulp. "Why don't you put on some clothes?"

"That's a great idea," he says. "But they seem to be missing. I guess they got thrashed beyond repair earlier. Maybe you could take me home real quick."

I shake my head. "After I speak to you. Here." I throw him a blanket which he wraps around himself, and sit across from him.

"You saved me," he says with wonder and happiness in his voice.

This is going to hurt him, but I have to get it out. Even though it isn't true, I have to say it.

"But that doesn't mean anything."

He looks at me strangely. "What...?" I don't let him continue.

"Tucker, hear me out. I love you, and I always will. You are my home." He's smiling, but nervously. I sigh. "I will never forget that summer, and all our time together, but there can't be anymore."

"Stop with the purpose stuff!"

"It's not that..."

"So it's Prescott? You've chosen him." His stare pierce me, going straight into my soul.

"Tuck-" I'm crying. "You are my home, my love. But he is my strength, my...glory. I can't move on without him."

"But you can without me." He's hurt, I can see it in his eyes.

"Tuck! You know that's not true. I can never stop thinking about you." I bite my lip and hug him. "God did this for a reason. I love you, but we have to move on. He has something better planned for you." I'm convincing myself, but not him.

He gets it though. He knows I love him, and that will keep him going. But he also knows that he's lost.

I answer the question he doesn't ask. "This isn't good-bye. We'll always be friends. The closest kind of friends."

"So we're back to friends, Carrots," he says, strong, but disappointed. "Thanks for saving my life. Can I go get clothes now?"

"Sure." I walk over to him and take his hand, draw him off the stool. He looks at me uncertainly.

"What are you doing?" he asks.

"Do you trust me?"

"Of course."

I delight in his quick intake of breath as I reach up and cover his eyes with both of my hands. I call the glory, a warm, pulsing circle of light around us. I close my eyes and concentrate on sending us to the front of the Lazy Dog, his house. I'm avoiding the barn, on purpose.

"Okay, you can look," I say, and take my hands away, and the light slowly fades around us, and he gasps.

"How did you do that?"

I shrug. "I click my heels three times and say, 'There's no place like home.'"

"Uh-huh. Why don't I feel sick from the glory?"

"Um...I'll tell you about it later. Call me."

He nods, curious, and then waves.

"Bye, Carrots," he says, and we both try to keep the tears from flowing.


	3. Epilogue

**Epilogue**

It's six years later when I leave the hospital, the way I saw that loving couple leave when Angela gave birth. In my arms I hold my little baby, Amore , and standing behind me is my loving husband, Christian. He puts his arm around my shoulder.

_We get to keep this one_, he says in my mind, and then he smiles, looking at Amore with such love.

_You don't know how happy that makes me_.

I can't imagine sharing a baby, a child, with Tucker, but with Christian, I know it will be great. I can feel the love. Plus, we've done this before.

_ You sure you have no regrets?_

_ About what? _I ask, confused. _The name?_

He laughs, a tingly laugh that makes me feel warm inside. _No. About choosing me._

I smile up at him, looking at those gorgeous, green eyes. I still think of Tucker, even after marrying Christian, but I would never go back.

_Not in a million years_.

**Author's**** Note:** **Okay, it's done. It didn't take long because I wrote the whole thing before posting it.**

**I had another idea for the epilogue, but then after this one I didn't know how to add it in.**

**The idea was a scene where Christian, Clara, three-year-old Amore, and nine-year-old Webster were playing on the beach. I thought it would be cute since Christian mentioned the beach and Webster is like their other baby. If you guys want, I can write it.**

**Now that I think about it, maybe I'll write more with Amore and how she grows up. c:  
**


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